Page 13 of Marked by the Demigod

4

* * *

Dave leaves her alone in his office with a cup of coffee. Which is great cause her fingers feel like they're about to fall off, they're so freezing.

Logically, Aimes knows that her fingers getting cold means she's close to freaking out. But the knowledge of that does nothing to stop the feeling.

If she hadn't seen the smoke and the gray skin, she'd be calling bullshit on this whole thing. What kind of person, creature - supernatural - whatever marked someone by having sex with them? And what the hell does marked even mean? Does it just mean that people can tell she hooked up with someone?

She swivels back and forth in her chair, the action satisfying in the way it only is when you're on the verge of a panic attack.

The door slams open with a bang, and Aimes jumps, jarring her elbow on the desk.

In strides one of the more lovely women she has ever seen. And she lives in Los Angeles, home of the stars and vapid beauties.

This woman has jet-black hair cut severely at her chin, and beautiful blue eyes, the type of blue eyes you see from Photoshop. It’s the color blue you find on primary color wheels, or on the blue screen of death.

She spares Aimes a glance, her face pointed and sharp, and she purses her lips together. "You the unlucky one?"

Again it feels like the floor is dropping out of her. "I don't..."

"Do you want coffee? I want coffee. Come on." And she turns on her heel and strides out the small office again, her shoes clomping on the ground.

Aimes eyes them. She’s wearing combat boots, for some reason. Combat boots with a full black suit and a tie, the suit cut so sharp, as if to create a look that she is a knife.

She doesn’t look back as she rounds the corner, and Aimes scrambles up in her chair to follow.

* * *

The woman takesher down to the coffee cart right outside the library, then wanders around the tiny library garden.

The woman levels her with an evaluating glance, like the schoolteachers of old, that lasts far too long. "Dave says you had no idea," the woman says, her voice soft, not fitting her face or her body or her clothes. "That you've never been aware of the others before."

Aimes shakes her head, her curls of course falling out of the ponytail. "This sounds like fiction."

The woman shrugs, a careless motion for such a put together person. "Fiction comes from somewhere."

They're silent, strolling through the dried plants and sipping coffees.

"But seriously, fairies?" Aimes bursts out.

"Fairies and gods and ghosts and vampires. Such is the world we live in." Her lips twitch upwards into a smile.

"Which one are you?" Aimes bursts out. Obviously not vampire, cause she's out in the sun, but...

Again, the small smile. "One hundred percent a normal human. Katya Rinne, I specialize in human and non-human interactions or the government." And now, only now, after they have been pacing around for a few minutes, does she extend her hand.

When she extends her hand, her suit jacket pulls back, and Aimes catches a glimpse of a pistol strapped against her waist.

"Aimes Salinas, nice to meet you." Aimes takes her hand after a split second, cause you don't want to piss someone off with a gun. "I apparently had sex with the wrong guy."

"Did Dave tell you what that meant?" The friendly exterior drops again, leaving the severe mask.

"No, just that he was unqualified to talk about it." Aimes pulls her cardigan closer to her, chilled despite the southern Californian sun. "He said I was marked?"

"Putting it mildly." She glances down at her coffee cup, as if steeling herself. "Do you want this quick or do you want this gentle?" She demands, voice clipped. "Cause I could do this gentle, but it'll take a while."

"Quick." Cause fuck this waiting and fuck all the people staring at her.

---